Years passed into years, and the days numbered far to become uncounted in the eyes of Imladris. Battles waged and blood spilt upon the fields and valleys of Lindon, Eriador and even unto the riverbanks of the Brunien. Yet, by some unknown fate or fortune, Imladris remained hidden from the reach of Sauron, and by the vigilance of Elrond and Celeborn the valley prospered and became a place of beauty in a time when fires ravaged the world around and the forests of old burned into grasslands. The news brought by couriers bordered on joy and sadness, both of victory and defeat, and rumor grew of the might of Numenor. Joy spread throughout the land that the Edain had at long last come to the aid of the Eldar, their friends of old, from their island nation far in the west of this world. Many rejoiced at this long-awaited alliance, all save for one who sat amid the joy holding thoughts of darkness and doubt. He sat in this way, because despite the joyous news of ally forces, no news reached him of one soldier in all the host of Gil-galad.

His thoughts were dark, and his mind reached into the mists of time and space, using all that was gifted to him in terms of mental ability. Yet to his dismay, nothing came of it, he never learned how to harness the gifts of his maternal line, nor the usages of his kind's abilities. His gifts were subtle and less noble in their power, such things he knew how to do were due to learning by the hands of others. He tended the wounded and dying who were brought in from the battles, though he wished to fight alongside the other soldiers and prove to them he was no mere standard bearer who doted upon his lord as a child does his father. Yet Celeborn's charge was to lead Imladris while Elrond was away, a duty he himself had come to loathe rather than waiting idly by; and Celebrin's duty was to remain with him. So he took to bandaging the wounded, using well the skills he learned from the Nandor in their arts of healing. This at the very least gave him the opportunity to hear of the goings on the battle field before it was made public knowledge. The last news he heard of his friend came from a Noldor wounded, who cried out caressing a leg that seemed to be nothing but bone and blood. In these screams he heard only,

"Gaereledh, Gaereledh is out there still, you must go to him!! He needs you!!"

And then he was silenced, by a sharp pain in the place where his leg used to be. He heard no more from that gilded soldier, nor the day after, nor would he hear anything else, for the wounded soldier died that night, with no words upon his lips. This elf Celebrin knew well, for he was of Mithlond, his name was Estelion, indeed he was one of they who praised the coming of the Twain Spears in the last battle for Eregion.

That was two weeks ago, the battle long ended, yet no news came of the death toll, nor were any wounded brought to Imladris after. It took all Celebrin was to remain and hold true to his oath and promise to Celeborn, yet after the coming of the wounded Estelion, Celebrin began to feel despair upon his heart, as his hope truely died with the son of hope.

And he sat upon a small pavilion looking out at the river flowing beneath the houses of Imladris and he felt as if he was at the very end of the world. And his thoughts spoke to him This must be how being in Valinor feels, safe behind closed doors, while others die and fall outside...

"I believed that at first...trapped behind walls, too safe to truly LIVE."

This ancient voice entered his mind and he turned his head to see where it came from, only to see a vision of white light, and a figure crowned in golden tresses.

"My lady, forgive me...you frightened me."

"This is no time to speak of such matters aloud Tathirilion, a shadow falls before the storm, even the wise cannot see whether darkness looms ahead, or the blazing dawn."

He knew she spoke the truth, even there in the safe borders of Hidden Imladris, shadow and malice pushed forth and covered the hearts of all, so much so that none would dare speak of anything dooming aloud, but only remained cheerful and optimistic in spoken word.

"Even you hiril nin? Even you cannot see the end of the storm?"

"This is the time of breath before the plunge...Do you feel trapped here Tathirilion? Has your sword arm become too tired of caring for the sick and dying?"

"If it be your will hiril nin, may I speak plainly with you."

"I encourage it... you are after all my Lord's personal esquire and standard bearer."

"It is not that I grow weary of being a healer, I know it is most needed now than arms to battle with. It is merely staying here trapped, as you say, knowing that all I hold dear is failing, and I can do nothing to stop it."

"Do you wish to leave our service young one? And protect that which you hold most dear, even if it mean dying in the process?"

"I have sworn to be loyal to my lord Celeborn, and to that I hold, until he release me."

"Oaths are dangerous things Tathirilion, they can mean doing things...we never wished to do. Do you question you valor, staying here in safe walls, doing, as you say what is needed?"

"I...Yes, to be truthful I do feel my bow arm tire some. But it is not my valor that worries me...In many things I am uncertain."

"What does your heart tell you?"

"It wants me to be positive and know that he is well...But a shadow lingers there..."

"What does it tell you, forget the mind and its polaric ways. What do you feel..."

Celebrin closed his eyes, trying to feel what his heart truly said to him, trying to forget that it could say there was nothing more for him in Middle Earth, and that all close to him had passed to the Undying lands by way of Mando's halls.

"I feel.."

Just then a trumpet blasted forth from the western sky and cries of joy were heard in Imladris. Everywhere cries spoke out:

"Praise the Valar!!"

"Numenor has come!"

"Hail friends of the West, long sundered by the seas!!!"

"Hail the coming of the Sun!"

Both Lady and standard-bearer strided to the western corridors, where stood at the door three tall elven lords, one with hair of brilliant silver and the others shimmered darkly. Celeborn embraced the Lord Elrond and the King Erenion, shouting out in joy,

"Praise these days that are ours for the time has long come for hope to return to our hearts."

In the merriment the Lady leaned into Celebrin and spoke in a whisper,

"My Lord will soon need his standard-bearer to welcome the host of men and eldar in the Rhudaur, there I believe you will find the end of your questions."

She gave him a silent smile and went foward to the side of her husband, and greeted also the Lords Elrond and Erenion.

Celebrin rode behind his Lord and Lady, shimmering darkly in his gray armor, the wind blowing his hair along with the banner he bore in mysterious and wandering ways; the clouds dispersed revealing the evening sun leaving the sky heading toward the Undying Lands and Numenor. It surprised him how the short the journey out of the woods had become as they neared the river valley just outside of Imladris called Rhudaur. As they crossed the river Bruinen they appeared as a company from the Elder days, arrayed in glowing light, shrouded in mist and glory. Though the sun began to fall, another light entered the valley of Bruinen, a light from the east, four golden, one white gold and two of silver. Before them rejoiced two hosts arrayed in different manner, one gold and singing in fair voices of victory in wars long ago, the other arrayed in a different manner than any had seen, for their armor shined forth as polished steel. And their helms were fashioned to reveal wings of gold and bronze. Some among them bore a different armor than their comrades of shining steel. Their armor blazed as golden fire, more brilliant than the gilded armor of Gil-galad, yet in someway less beautiful and more for show than actual value. These men were tall, and their hair was a mixture of dark and fair, and their beards were quite full, though some among them would have been fresh out of adolescence.

To Celebrin he favored those arrayed in silver-like steel rather than the golden armor of proud show, for they seemed to him more like the men he had once known in the elder land, Beren and Tuor. The others were proud and seemed unhappy to be in the presence of the Eldar, showing less respect for the Lords of the Noldor and Sindar than they who were arrayed in cool shimmering steel. They were quick to leave, rejoicing in their own victory rather than in the victory shared by the Eldar, and despite the respect required for allies long sundered, some left south upon their steeds, leaving their steel clad comrades to pick up the pieces of a propriety that had been broken. Celeborn's face firmed at this obvious lack of respect, he had never truly enjoyed the company of men, but had learned to respect them in their shared alliances. He spoke to Celebrin, who at this time sat beside him upon his white steed Mithgaer,

"Such behavior I did not expect, some shadow lies on them, I know it well, the shadow of pride."

The Lords rode to a tent prepared for them and there dined with the lords from Numenor, men tall and hale, some with eyes of gray and clad in silver and steel. Others clad in gold; they bore proud and stern faces, obviously not wishing to remain, but for propriety's sake did so. Celebrin waited upon his lord and lady, bringing them food and drink, yet his thoughts ever ran to the soldiers who ate and drank outside, beneath the stars, laughing of matters that people who were not lords could understand and laugh about. He was one of them, he was not too high in the stature of lords to know fully the life they led, he was one of "the people" as they were called. His family always was a family of stewards and servants, craftsmen and court, the ways of all different statuses of the Eldar ran through him; and he excelled at most of them.

The white lady watched him standing at the opening of the tent, firm and attentive, yet she could tell his mind lay elsewhere and his eyes wandered always between the outside and the table. She leaned toward her husband, and whispered into his ear. He turned his head toward the opening in a manner that did not draw attention and smiled; with a nod of his head and a wave of his hand he beckoned forth his standard-bearer.

"Elornion, I and my Lady have no need of you at the present moment, those present here must speak at length of matters we do not wish to trouble our servants with. Seek what food is available and I give you leave to eat where you wish... but be near, I will have need of you at some point this night."

Celebrin bowed and quickly exited, realizing none of the other servants left at that moment as he had, but it mattered little to him; with desperate heart and anxious spirit he sought the host of Erenion from Mithlond.

I would like to thank Elfique for your comments and praises, thank you, oh and the great Marnie for allowing me to use some of her imagery in another tale of Celebrin that will come later.